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Frozen in Time, chapter 10 of 18

Warnings: &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Non-con sex. Threesome, het and slash sex.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Toward the end there's some philosophy.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Contains opinions, assumptions and situations that some might find offensive. &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Medical issues are based on my experience with frostbite, information from the internet, and commonsense. They are pretty much correct, but I have ignored a thing or two. It is, however, a whole lot more accurate than "Forever Young."&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp This is entirely (re)written, so you don't need to worry about whether it gets finished. However, while I certainly appreciate that not everyone gives feedback to every chapter (including me), if I don't get much of any positive feedback, I will probably lose interest in posting.Rated: Series: NC-17 or E, Chapter 10: PGType: RP het/slashPairing: EW/DM/OFCDisclaimer: This is fiction. And not intended even to be wise. While some of these characters may be based on real people, I don't personally know them. I made it all up out of my perverted little head.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp No, I don't make any money at this.Archive: No, please.Feedback: Please feed me. Praise is lovely. Constructive criticism is valued. If you find nothing of value in it, though, please don't bother telling me. You wouldn't be the first person.

Beta: The wonderful elfellon111, whose attention to detail has inspired me to be a better writer. Especially for this chapter!

Frozen in TimeA DomLijah Story

by TaroDragon

Part 10

Confession

﻿There was a silence. Ellen knew her face was beet red.

Finally he asked, "Well? Tell me what?"

Ellen sat on the edge of the bed where she didn't have to look at him, but pulled his hand onto her lap. She stroked the fingers, picked at the softened cuticles, trying to think of a way to say it. He deserved to know …

"You were going to ask permission to touch me … " he began, though he made no attempt to remove his hand. Probably he was trying to lighten the mood, but it only made it worse. Times touched without permission ...

"Elijah."

The difficulty, the relief, the satisfaction, of addressing him by his name. She said it like a prayer, closed her eyes, breathed. Knowing who you were, I stuck my finger in your ass. But it was for your own good. Yeah, right. I knew all along who you were, but I'm not obsessed with you. Oh, no, not me. I was completely detached about invading you. No, only the truth had any hope of being believed, of stimulating understanding and forgiveness.

Finally she said, "I don't want to lie to you, or deceive you. I didn't tell you I knew who you were because I wanted ... well, I wanted to be able to talk with you naturally, one-on-one." She looked up at him. "Just two people, exploring the possibility of friendship. But the truth," she couldn't meet his eyes for this, looked away, hesitated, but there is only one way to say it. She set her jaw and came out with it. "I love you."

Elijah shifted uncomfortably. "Half the country's in love with me," he said awkwardly.

"But I didn't say 'I'm in love with you.'" She was trying to find the right words; true words, but on a deeper level than people usually talk with each other. Especially people who don't really know each other.

"When people say 'in love', they usually mean 'in lust'," she elaborated, "and that isn't what I mean."

Then she was embarrassed and confused, because she knew perfectly well that she was 'in lust' as well as 'in love'. She felt more blood rushing to her face. "Okay, that's part of it. But it's a lot more." She choked, trying to think how to make him understand. He must be cynical about those three words. Then she remembered. "You said yourself that most of the women who chase you are only looking for someone famous. Okay, sure I wouldn't know you if you weren't famous, but ..." she hesitated, what more could she offer? What rationale did she have to claim that her love for him was any different than any fan-of-the-moment?

Elijah was bemused and somewhat dazed by this rushed confession. In the first place, from his perspective the conversation had made an unexpected turn that he wasn't really ready for. In the second place, he had not picked up on any excess emotion from her; if anything, he'd have thought that his feelings for her were inappropriate. There was a rush of warmth that started in his groin. She loved him? She wanted to talk with him? Certainly her arm had been around him every time he awoke. And it made him feel cosy to think of that.

"I would never have noticed you if you didn't say such interesting things," she added suddenly, sure of her ground withthat one. "I'm sure you've been told that before."

He cocked his head to the side. "Such as ...?"

"Well ..." cornered, it was hard to come up with examples. "Things like not just going out and wasting money just because you have it. And admitting to being a geek. And recognizing that women chasing you because you're famous is not something that you want."

Then, quietly, "That you're a romantic, and interested in real love."

"There are a lot of levels of love," he said softly, hesitantly, unsure whether he should interrupt her. Ellen just stared at him for a moment, stirred with love for him all over again. That such deep understanding came from one so young!

"Speaking of interesting things you say," she commented.

More silence, as each of them thought about what to say.

"Well, sticking with romantic love here, there's the physical level and there's respect. I think physical attraction usually comes first so people get to know each other enough to gain respect."

Elijah quirked a smile at that. "Yeah, I think we've covered that," he said. "And I know a lot of beautiful people that I don't like at all. I like to know a person first and worry about their looks afterward."

"Let me tell you something," she said. "I'm not sure you can really believe this, but I would, happily, give my life to save yours."

She let that lie for a moment. Let him think about it. Then, "I think it has to do with the angels."

Now that was puzzling. "How?"

She turned to meet his daunting gaze. "They were there for you. It's important enough for you to live, that God/the-All-That-Is/Whatever made sure of it. Most people just die, Elijah! Most people have to take the consequences of their actions. Learn from their mistakes and apply it in the next life, if that's what they have left. It isn't everyone who gets direct angelic intervention. You truly are special."

Another silence greeted this outburst, while Ellen found eye focus in her lap.

"I don't want to be special," he said after a bit.

She smiled at that, and met his gaze again. "Yes you do. I know you realize that everyone is just as important as you are, but you enjoy your career. And I think you enjoy being able to make people happy."

He grinned at that, though wistfulness remained around his eyes. "I do enjoy making people happy," he confirmed, suddenly reversing their hands in her lap and grasping hers.

She looked down at her lap again, at their hands entwined, and repeated, "I love you." Then she looked up into his face resolutely. With her free hand she reached up and stroked his cheek.

"I love you with a depth and completeness I would not have dreamed possible."

Reading his face as open and accepting, she continued. "I love you like a mother loves a son, like a teacher loves a precocious student." Pause. She felt tears in her eyes from the intensity of her feelings. With her hand still on his cheek, she caught her breath and went on.

"I love you like a young girl loves her first crush and a young woman loves her first lover.

"I love you like a woman loves a man. And for that matter like a man loves a woman."

There was a pause which she read as an uncomfortable silence. "I know that makes you uncomfortable," she allowed. "But I want you to be convinced that everything that happened here last night, happened out of love." Including the lust level.

Elijah closed his eyes, bit his lip. Now I've done it, Ellen thought. He'll never listen to anything I say. But he hadn't taken his hand away. She stroked each finger, loving the shape, loving the skin, loving each knuckle, loving each abbreviated fingernail.

"I'm glad."

It was such an ordinary statement, to hold so much meaning for her, spoken so quietly into her thoughts that she questioned whether she had heard them. He's glad I love him?

To get him to clarify, she said, "I hope I've earned the right to love you."

Elijah was rather nonplussed. She had been so much in control of the situation, and he really wanted her to stay that way. Being the passive recipient of love and care was very pleasant to someone who was tired of being deferred to, not to mention physically weakened. Finally, he touched her cheek lightly and said, "You've made me feel safe. I remember you saying that to me - when? - last night? - 'You are as safe as I can arrange for', you said."

"You can remember that? It was after that when you slugged me."

"That I barely remember. Just all of a sudden I felt panicked."

She pulled his hand against herself and hugged it. "I'm glad. That I made you feel safe."

He wanted her to put her arms around him and hug his whole body that way. He scootched down in the bed so that his body was pretty much wound around her where she sat on the bed.

"So," he said. "What was so funny?"

She looked up at him startled. His eyes were laughing at her. Her cheeks blazed again. She looked away, breathed for control.

"I won't lie to you. I'll never lie to you."

"So 'fess up." His voice was light.

She needed neutrality. She looked up at the dresser, the pan of water still sitting on it … that wasn't neutral! Fastened her gaze on a lamp.

"We needed to know how cold you were," she began, "in order to know what to do. There's no way to tell. Thermometers don't go that low, and anyway, mouth temperature isn't going to tell anything."

Pause.

"Oh." The neutral grunt told her that he understood.

Maybe.

"Rectal thermometers don't go that low, either," she clarified.

A timeless moment as he digested that one. Then he jerked his hand away, and she watched its retreat in dismay.

But he was laughing. Curled on his side, doubled-up, gone in hilarity. She couldn't help joining him, it was so infectious. But her mind was floating, more interested in his glee than in her embarrassment. Touched to her soul that he could laugh about it, giggle with the delight of a child for a moral dilemma that may touch him physically, but didn't affect his real self at all.

The angels are laughing, she thought in wonder.

He grinned up at her wickedly. "And I missed it," he chortled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That sobered her instantly. She watched his laughter slowly subside.

Dare I?

She knew he responded to assertiveness.

I could ruin it all.

When he stopped chuckling she heard herself asking, "Was that an invitation?"